


not the greatest day

by beckandcall (perksofbeingauselesslesbian)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Female Character, i love my daughter beau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 23:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perksofbeingauselesslesbian/pseuds/beckandcall
Summary: Whoo so this is the first instalment of what could possibly be a (very) mini series on trans beau. Let me know if i should write the second chapter!Thanks to my fact checkers, knifetotheback, and nostatenoproblem on tumblr for the aforementioned checking.You can also find me on tumblr as yashasbuffarms, so come say hi (or make requests for what you want to see here next)!





	not the greatest day

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo so this is the first instalment of what could possibly be a (very) mini series on trans beau. Let me know if i should write the second chapter!
> 
> Thanks to my fact checkers, knifetotheback, and nostatenoproblem on tumblr for the aforementioned checking.
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr as yashasbuffarms, so come say hi (or make requests for what you want to see here next)!

Today was one of those days where everything just felt wrong. Her body was all angles and not enough curves as she stared at herself in the washroom mirror. 

She’d tried wearing tight clothing that morning when she woke up feeling as bad as Caleb had looked when they first met. It hadn’t helped, and just drew her attention to the body that she had but wasn’t hers. Then she’d tried loose clothing with a belt, then without. Nothing felt right enough to wear somewhere she’d be seen by other people. 

Jester and Fjord wouldn’t mind, Beau was sure. They didn’t ask questions about each other, but knew enough to call themselves friends. She hadn’t told them outright, but she would bet three gold that they knew in one way or another. Jester had immediately stopped calling her ‘Beauregard’ as soon as she’d told her not to, and Fjord had taken to giving the stink eye to anyone who looked at her funny. She loved them for it. 

Beau ran her fingers lightly over her chin and jaw, wanting so badly to feel soft skin instead of the slight scrape of razor nicks as she so often did. It was smooth for now, and something in Beau’s chest settled for a second. She could never understand how Caleb let his scruff grow so long. Beau had her knife for that - a gift from her father back when everyone was calling her Beauregard and never Beau. It was a right of passage or something, she didn’t care. It was useful and she refused to think of it any other way. 

Her shaved hair was getting long again, and she’d have to ask Fjord to help her with it like she did last time. He was gentle and knew how to use a blade. It was more of a team effort, really. Fjord would shear the back and sides short, then Jester would weave flowers into her long hair to ‘make it look extra pretty’. Beau trusted her; Jester always knew how to look pretty. 

She’d once asked Beau why she didn’t have any dresses, and when met with a shrug, had proceeded to lend Beau a dress that was just a little too short. She’d liked it at first, but decided that type of pretty wasn’t for her. Pants were more practical anyway. Her monk vestments were perfect really, loose fitting but with enough shape to be just right. The sash worn low over her hips accentuated what she wanted it to, and when she couldn’t care for it, it simply became a scarf. Her current set was soaking in a tub to remove the blood from their latest encounter, however, so all she had to wear was a pair of stolen breeches and too-tight shirt. Oh the curse of packing light… and ripping up other sets beyond repair.

She was loathe to admit it, but they’d have to do for now. If she took much longer to appear before her friends, they’d come looking and ask questions and that was the last thing Beau wanted. She made her way back to the bedroom to scrub her robes again in an effort to speed up the stain removal. She decided it would have to do if she wanted to wear them as soon as possible, and set them out to dry on the windowsill. 

Beau wasn’t a coward by any means, far from it really, but when it came time to face her friends as less than her happiest self, she couldn’t bear to even turn the door handle. She knew they’d ask questions, but she could always pass it off as a stomach ache or a hangover. It’s what she usually did when she was in the company of others and her clothes were being washed and nothing else felt right. If she was alone, she would swim - the shape of your body didn’t matter when you were weightless.

But her friends were downstairs, so she curled up in bed and did her best to stave off the morning hunger and creeping sense of discomfort tickling at her spine.


End file.
